A Brother's Blood
by Zanza8
Summary: Festus helps out when Sam Noonan's past comes back to haunt him.


Festus hurried into the Longbranch and over to the bar. "Sam, you got a minute?"

The saloon was packed with drovers and the bartender wore a harassed expression. "What'll you have, Festus?"

The hillman shook his head. "Nothin'. Sam, I got to jaw with you private like."

Sam's eyes widened as he cast a glance around the room. "I can't talk right now, Festus! Come back later." He poured a shot of whiskey and set it on the bar. "This one's on me."

Festus leaned over and lowered his voice. "I tell you we got to jaw. There's this feller called Charlie Barton..."

Kitty looked over at the crash. Sam had dropped a mug on the floor and was leaning on the bar, his face white. She hurried over. "Sam, what's wrong?"

The bartender took a deep breath and wiped his forehead with an unsteady hand. "I'm sorry, Miss Kitty. I guess I'm not feeling too good."

Kitty looked concerned. "Maybe you'd better go see Doc." She turned to Festus. "Will you please take him?"

The hillman nodded. "Yes, ma'am." He went around the end of the bar and took Sam's arm. "C'mon, Sam. Prob'ly just need some of them little pink pills to perk you up..."

Kitty watched them go and was strongly tempted to follow, but two cowboys started a quarrel over one of the girls and in settling them down she forgot about Sam.

Outside, Sam pulled away from Festus and went down an alley. The hillman followed, waiting patiently while the other man collected himself. Finally the bartender asked, "What's this about Charlie?"

"You know I went huntin' last week?" Sam nodded. "I wuz on my way back when I found this young feller layin' on the prairie."

Sam cut in, his face agitated. "He's hurt?"

Festus said reassuringly, "He's hurt but it ain't too bad. Looked like he caught some lead in his arm but it went clean through. He tolt me his horse stepped in a gopher hole and broke his leg...he shot him and kept goin' afoot but he warn't in no shape for that." The hillman saw the question on Sam's face. "He's at that little shack down by the river. I wanted to get Doc for him but he said not to." He shook his head. "That boy's nerveeous as a long-tailed cat in a roomful of rockin' chairs, but he tolt me his name and asked for you."

Sam gripped the hillman's shoulder. "You didn't tell anybody about him, did you?"

"Nary a soul," said Festus. "Who is he?"

Sam walked away a few steps, his head bent. "He's my nephew."

_Sam Noonan stood in the parlor, eyes downcast as his sister inspected him with scornful eyes. "I must say you're a fine sight. How dare you come to this house in that uniform?"_

_ "Hannie..."_

_ "Don't call me Hannie," she hissed. "It's Mrs Barton to you. Now get out of here and don't come back until you're a loyal Confederate."_

_ Sam raised his head. "I won't ever come back then."_

_ "Good!" Hannah Barton's face was venomous. "It'll save me the disgrace of explaining how my own brother could turn traitor to his family."_

_ "Mother?"_

_ They both turned as a handsome boy of fourteen entered the room. Hannah hurried to him and took his arm. "Charlie, I want you to go to your room and stay there until I come to fetch you."_

_ "But..."_

_ "Do like I tell you!" _

_ The boy pulled free, looking at Sam in bewilderment. "Sam, are you a soldier now?"_

_ "That's right, boy." He came forward, looking defiantly at Hannah. "In the Union army. That's the right side."_

_ Hannah raised her hand and struck her brother across the face. Horrified at her own action, she didn't hear her son whimper and run from the room. Brother and sister stared at each other for a long moment, then Sam turned and left the house, never to return._

"I had already lost two brothers." Sam swallowed hard. "David was killed the first month, fighting for the South. We got word the next year that Adam was in Andersonville. Hannah said it was all he deserved, fighting for the North, but I tried to buy him out..." The bartender's voice broke. "They took every cent I raised and gave me a corpse...he was a big man, like me, but he'd lost so much weight I lifted him into the wagon with one hand."

Festus bowed his head in sympathy and after a moment Sam went on.

_ Three years went by. Once a month Sam wrote to his sister and once or twice a year his letters were returned unopened. When the surrender finally came, he was footsore and penniless without a single person in the world to turn to. He picked up odd jobs in the towns he drifted through, finally arriving in Dodge City. Jingling the change in his pocket, he went into the first saloon he saw._

_ "What'll you have?"_

_ Sam smiled at the beautiful redhead behind the bar. "A cold beer."_

_ She drew it and he took a big gulp. "Thank you, ma'am. That's the best beer I've had in a month."_

_ She smiled. "That's a rare compliment. I'm Kitty Russell and I own this place."_

_ Sam wiped his hand on his leg and extended it. "Sam Noonan."_

_ Kitty took his hand. "Well, Sam Noonan, what do you do for a living?"_

_ He drank some more beer. "These past few years I think I've done a little bit of everything. Drover, stable hand, bartender..."_

_ She cut in. "Bartender?"_

_ "Yes, ma'am." He smiled. "It's good work if you can find a good boss. I was tending bar in Hays but the boss and me had a disagreement."_

_ Kitty looked at him thoughtfully. "What kind of a disagreement?"_

_ Sam grinned. "Over wages. I thought he should pay me and he thought I should live on tips."_

_ Kitty chuckled. "Mr Noonan..."_

_ "Call me Sam."_

_ "Sam, are you looking for a job?"_

_ "I sure could use one, Miss Kitty."_

_ "I sure could use another bartender. The spring drives will be getting in any day now. Think you could handle a bunch of drunken cowboys?"_

_ Sam finished his beer. "Do I have to live on tips?"_

_ Kitty smiled. "I think we could work something out where you might have some money in your pocket once in a while."_

Sam took a turn around the alley. "Once I started working for Miss Kitty I never looked back. I sent a note to Hannah so she'd know where to find me if she ever wanted to." His voice dropped. "She sent it back unopened just like all the others."

"She yore onliest kin, is she?"

Sam nodded. "My mother and father were both orphans. They were killed in an accident when I was eight years old, and then it was just us boys and our big sister, Hannah. She raised us." He smiled, remembering. "We were quite a handful but she never complained. Then she married Charles Barton and he was like a father to us. Charlie is her oldest son. He's ten years younger than me but we all got to be very close. Then the war came..." The bartender fell silent for a moment. "It tore our family right down the middle. Adam and David enlisted, then Tommy...he was my younger brother. Sixteen years old when he ran away to join up." Sam's voice became almost inaudible. "He was in Lawrence when Quantrill's men came through. To this day I don't know what side he wanted to fight on..." Sam looked at Festus and saw the bewilderment on the hillman's face. "Didn't you have some in your family that went on different sides?"

Festus shook his head. "All us Haggens stuck together. Mebbe some of us didn' want to fight for the South but we warn't goin' to raise our hands 'gainst our own kinfolk. Oncet the Missouri Haggens jined up with General Lee, that settled it for the rest of us."

Sam's voice turned cold. "Didn't you care what you were fighting for?"

The hillman's soft hazel eyes filled with pain. "Sam, I warn't a soldier. I wuz just a mule skinner. My brother Fergus wuz the one went seekin' glory. I only went to be with him." Sam regretted his hasty words and Festus, seeing the look on his face, changed the subject. "What 'bout yore nephew, Charlie? Hadn' I better take you to him?"

Sam looked resigned. "I suppose so."

"You s'pose so! Don'tcha want to see him?"

"Well...well, yes. Oh, of course I do. But I know Hannah wouldn't like it..."

The bartender's voice trailed away and Festus asked, "Ain't you startin' to itch 'fore you been bit? Yore nephew asked for you. That's the onliest thing you should be thinkin' 'bout now."

Sam smiled gratefully. "You know, Festus, you're right."

Charlie Barton had a gun in his hand as Sam and Festus came through the door of the little shack. "Sam?" The bartender smiled and bounded across the room and the young man dropped the gun on the floor.

"Charlie!" Sam threw his arms around his nephew and Charlie winced.

"Take it easy, Sam."

Sam drew back, contrite. "I'm sorry, boy. How's the arm?" The young man pulled up his sleeve and displayed his arm. It was torn but healing and the bartender sighed with relief. "That's not so bad."

Charlie covered the wound. "That's not what's worrying me."

Sam looked at him sharply. "How did it happen?"

"Well, I was on my way to California..."

The bartender broke in. "What about your mother?"

"It was Mother's idea. Pa was a blockade runner during the war..." He met Sam's eyes briefly, then went on awkwardly. "He made a lot of money, Sam. Enough to set up a shipping line after the surrender. He never has less than half a dozen ships going back and forth to England and now he wants to start a line to San Francisco. I was going to look into it for him."

Sam's voice was dry. "Lucky for him the war came along."

Charlie said angrily, "Pa did what he thought was right!"

"So did I!" snapped the bartender. "I didn't get rich off it, though. I didn't even manage to keep my home or my family." He took several deep breaths, then went on more quietly. "Maybe we should talk about what you're doing here."

Charlie looked sheepish. "I was supposed to take the train, but I thought it would be...I don't know, an adventure...I decided to take the stage." He laughed a little. "It was an adventure, all right. Three men held us up and I got shot. Festus here found me on the prairie and when he mentioned Dodge City I remembered the letter you sent mother. I asked him to get you and, well, here we are."

Festus and Sam exchanged a look and the bartender said slowly, "Charlie, I still don't understand why you don't want a doctor to take a look at you, or why you'd rather stay here than come into town."

The young man shifted uneasily on the bed. "Well, I...that is..." His voice trailed away.

Sam looked stern. "I think I'd like to get the real story now."

Charlie said sullenly, "I already told you everything."

"All right. I'm getting Doc and then I'm going to have a talk with the marshal."

"Now wait a minute!" Charlie jumped to his feet, then sat down heavily. He had broken out in a cold sweat and Sam sat next to him.

"Charlie, if you're in some kind of trouble you'd better say so now. If you won't trust me I'll have to let the marshal handle it." The young man looked at Festus. "Festus is my friend. Anything you want to say to me you can say in front of him."

Charlie struggled with himself, then confessed. He had gotten into a bad crowd and his mother, anxious to separate him from their influence, decided to send him to California. Without her knowledge, two of his friends went with him. "It was all in fun, Sam." Charlie's voice dropped. "It was supposed to be fun, anyway. We took the train to St Louis and then we caught a stage. It was carrying a lot of money..."

The young man seemed reluctant to say anymore but Sam pressed him. "What happened, Charlie?"

"We were the only passengers and Jerry and Stuart started talking about how easy it would be to take the money." Charlie hung his head. "I thought they were joking. Mother didn't like them but I thought she was just being too hard on them." The bartender waited in silence and after a moment the young man went on. "We were going through a pass in the hills and they...they shot the driver and the guard. We cut the horses loose and pushed the stage down a ravine and then we just rode away..."

Sam's face turned white. "You killed two men?"

"Not me!" Charlie grabbed his uncle's hand. "Sam, I swear...I swear on the graves of Adam and David and Tommy...I didn't have anything to do with any killing! I thought they were joking. I didn't even know they had guns!" Sam was frowning but he didn't say anything as Charlie went on. "We came out on the prairie and I wanted to get away from them, but they said I was in too deep. I said I'd take my chances and they..." He stopped and rubbed his arm. Sam waited and finally the young man whispered, "I thought they were my friends. They shot me...left me to die out there..."

"What about the money?" asked Sam.

Charlie buried his face in his hands. "They were carrying it. They must still have it."

"What did you say their names were?"

"Jerry Wells and Stuart Anderson."

Sam looked at Festus, then back at his nephew. "All right, Charlie. You stay put here until we can get to the bottom of this. Do you want to send a message to your mother?"

Charlie shook his head, avoiding his uncle's eyes. "I don't think she'd be too pleased to get a message from Dodge City."

Matt was filling out a report when Festus came in and he smiled and pushed the papers to one side. "Festus, I thought you were still out hunting."

The hillman smiled back. "I got in last night." He went to the coffeepot and poured himself a cup, then sat down at the table. Taking a swallow, he rolled his eyes. "Marshal, ain't you never goin' to learn how to make coffee? This here ain't nothin' more'n water with a little color to it."

The marshal raised his eyebrows. "I'd say you could fix it yourself but it took a week to clean the pot after the last time you made it." Festus snorted and Matt asked, "What have you been doing with yourself?"

Festus turned his cup around in his hands. "Oh, just as little as I can an' mostly what I please. How 'bout you? Tuck any desp'rate pris'ners lately?"

"Funny you should ask." Matt handed a poster to Festus and the hillman's eyes widened. "Recognize him?"

The hillman shook his head. "He looks like Aunt George's first husband Titus, but he died years back when his still...well, you prob'ly don't want to hear 'bout that. Who's this feller?"

The marshal took the poster back. "Charlie Barton. It seems he robbed a stagecoach. Killed the driver and the guard. There were two other passengers..." Matt shuffled some papers and found the one he wanted. "Jerry Wells and Stuart Anderson. They managed to get away. Seems they were friends of Barton's in Georgia and they were all coming west together."

Festus asked carefully, "Where's these friends of his at now?"

"The Dodge House. They've already given me their statements about the robbery and murders and I'm holding them as material witnesses until Quint gets back. I sent him out to the pass where it happened and as soon as I get his report I'm sending these posters out with a thousand dollars on Barton, dead or alive."

Charlie looked thunderstruck at Festus' story. "They're blaming me? They can't do that! They're lying! Sam..."

The bartender put up a hand. "Wait a minute, Charlie. I need to think."

Festus spoke up. "Sam, I already done lit a fire under them scamps."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, after I got done talkin' to the marshal, I went over to the Dodge House and dropped in on 'em." The hillman grinned. "They wuz lookin' mighty squeemy when I tolt 'em how I wuz huntin' up there and seen the holdup."

Sam was appalled. He tried to speak and had to clear his throat twice before getting words out. "Festus, you must be crazy. Those men are killers and you just set yourself up as their next target!"

Festus shrugged. "The more a feller's got on his mind, the less time he's got to think on any one thing. They wuz a'ready frettin' 'bout what they done when the marshal tolt 'em they couldn't leave town. Now they got to figger whether they ort to pay me off or put me under."

"Pay you off?" Charlie looked puzzled.

"Well, you don't s'pose I wuz just passin' the time of day, do you? I tolt 'em I wanted a thous'nd dollars or I'd go straight to the law."

Sam rubbed his head. "What did they say?"

"Tolt me they'd meet me someplace outta town tonight." The hillman snorted. "I said I'd wait for 'em behind the stables after the Longbranch closed up and they better be there 'cause I warn't fixin' on waitin' too long." The bartender shook his head and Festus said, "Sam, they ain't a whole lotta time. Soon's Quint gets back, the marshal's gonna be sendin' out them wanted posters on Charlie here. Oncet those go out...well, lettin' the cat out of the bag is a whole lot easier than puttin' it back in. You want this boy frettin' the rest of his life over bounty hunters findin' out he ain't wanted for nothin' after they done shot him?"

"All right," said Sam. "We'll do it your way, Festus, but you're not going alone. I'm getting my shotgun and waiting with you."

"I'm going too," said Charlie. Sam turned to his nephew and the young man shook his head. "Don't bother saying nothing, Sam. This whole thing is my fault...I figure I've got a right to help set it straight."

The bartender smiled. "I wasn't going to try and stop you, Charlie. I'm proud of you, boy."

Festus leaned against the wall of the stables, humming softly to himself. He could just see where Sam and Charlie waited in the shadows, but his eyes were sharper than most men's in the dark and he knew they would be invisible to the two young men who were coming. At least he hoped they were coming and didn't plan to shoot him from ambush. The hillman was pretty sure they wouldn't take a chance on killing someone in a town where the marshal already had them connected to a robbery and two murders, but he felt a sudden chill as he saw Anderson and Wells approaching. Pushing himself away from the wall he spoke with bravado.

"I wuz gettin' tired of waitin'. Didn't I tell you I warn't fixin' on standin' around too long?"

Anderson and Wells looked around, then Wells asked, "Are you alone?"

"'Course I'm alone! I don't figger on sharin' that money with nobody. Did you brang it, did you?"

Wells asked slowly, "How do we know you won't be wanting more if we pay you off?"

"I give you my word."

Anderson smiled unpleasantly. "Just what is your word worth, mister?"

The hillman's eyes glittered. "I'm a Haggen. Oncet a Haggen gives his word it's just like swearin' on the Book. I'll give you fellers another word. If'n you don't pay me right now I'm goin' straight to the marshal and tell him everythin' I seen." The young men looked at each other and Festus said, "The onliest thing you get from stradlin' the fence is a sore backside, so make up yore minds."

Wells sighed and took out his wallet. "All right, Mr Haggen. If you will give us your word that you won't turn us over to the law, we will pay your extortion money." His voice turned icy. "We're only paying this once. If we ever see you again we'll kill you and take our chances. Do you understand?"

Festus nodded and Wells handed over several bills. The hillman counted them, frowning. "Is this here money from the holdup?"

Wells asked suspiciously, "What do you care where it's from?"

"I've heerd tell of the law makin' lists of numbers on stolen money so's they can catch the fellers what passes it." Festus examined the bills and said shrewdly, "You two wouldn' want me caught with stolen money, now would you? I might just have to do a whole heap of talkin' if'n I wuz to find myself in a fix like that...'specially with that there dead driver and guard throwed in and that young'un you shot out on the prairie."

Anderson drew his gun. "Mister, you talk too much."

"He sure does." Sam was coming forward with his shotgun and the two men blanched as they saw Charlie beside him, gun in hand.

Wells backhanded Festus. "You dirty double-crosser!"

The force of the blow knocked the hillman against the wall. He started to draw his gun, then flinched at the blast from Sam's shotgun. Festus staggered back, stunned, as Anderson and Wells dropped to the ground.

Sam thrust the shotgun at Charlie and took his friend's arm to steady him. "Festus, are you all right?"

"My ears is ringin' some." The hillman shook his head. "Don't think I'd care to be that closet to the bizness end of that there scattergun of yourn again, but I ain't hurt."

Relieved, Sam knelt to check the two men on the ground. They were both dead and he looked up at Charlie. "These your two friends?"

Charlie nodded, looking scared. "Sam, what's going to happen now?"

"Now we get the marshal."

Matt went into the Longbranch and joined Kitty at their favorite table in the back. She was frowning over a sheet of paper and he asked, "Trouble, Kitty?"

Kitty looked up. "What? Oh, no, Matt, no trouble. I'm just trying to understand this order." She handed the paper over and pointed to the third item on the list.

"Tow's Lightning!" The marshal raised his eyebrows. "Since when do you stock moonshine?"

"I didn't order this. Sam did."

"Did you ask him about it?"

"He said Festus likes it and he wanted to keep some in stock for when he's in town."

Matt sat back. "Since when are him and Festus such good friends?"

Kitty shook her head. "I don't know. I suppose it can't hurt to keep a jug around. It's not really moonshine." The marshal looked at her and she flushed. "Well, it's not. It's perfectly legal."

"In Missouri, not Kansas." Matt thought for a moment. "I suppose if you keep it just for Festus..."

"I figured you'd see it that way." Kitty's voice was ironic.

Matt grinned. "You still don't like Festus, do you?"

Kitty took back the list. "Let's say I still haven't made up my mind."

Matt leaned over and gave her a kiss, then went to his office to find Festus at the stove making a pot of coffee. "Howdy, marshal. I seen you didn' have no coffee stewin' so I figgered I'd fix you some. Mebbe I can learn you yet what coffee ort to taste like."

Matt hung up his hat and unbuckled his gunbelt. "I know what coffee ought to taste like. That's how I know you can't make coffee." Festus shook his head and Matt seated himself behind his desk and started going through his papers. "By the way, Festus, did you know that Charlie Barton was Sam's nephew?"

The hillman's voice was elaborately casual. "Cain't say as I did, marshal. I did hear he warn't the one you wuz after for that there holdup."

Matt matched Festus' tone. "No, he wasn't. It was Anderson and Wells, his two friends. Sam just happened to run across them the other night. They had some of the stolen money on them and the rest was stashed in their room."

"Is that a fact?" Festus checked the coffee, poured two cups and handed one to the marshal, then sat at the table.

Matt took a sip and made a face, then got up for the sugar. "That's a fact, Festus." He sat across from the hillman. "Isn't it lucky that Sam was out at just the right time to catch the real killers and clear his nephew?" Festus remained silent and the marshal sighed. "You know, Festus, Sam is a good friend of mine. If somebody helped him, that would be somebody I'd owe a pretty big favor to...again."

Their eyes met-the hillman's wary, the marshal's inviting trust. Festus made as if to speak, then shook his head and drained his cup. "Well, marshal, I s'pose I better be on my way. I wuz fixin' on goin' home for a spell...I figger I better let the kinfolk know 'bout Uncle Jack."

Matt drank some more coffee. "Are you coming back?"

Festus looked at him again and this time there was a faint dawning of warmth in the hillman's eyes. "I reckon so, marshal." He smiled. "If'n there's one thing you can count on with us Haggens it's this...we alwuz come back to our friends."

Almost a month later, Sam was getting ready for work when Festus came to his room. The bartender smiled widely. "Festus! We haven't seen you for a while. Where was it this time?"

The hillman leaned against the wall. "Well, I went home to tell the kinfolk 'bout Uncle Jack and..." He stopped abruptly and rubbed his eyes, then went on very softly. "...and I did want to see that...that my brother Fergus got a proper marker on his grave." Sam gripped his friend's shoulder and for a moment the two men were silent, then Festus asked, "How's that nephew of yourn doin'?"

"I got a letter from him." Sam turned to rummage through the litter on top of his dresser, then held out an envelope to Festus.

The hillman bit his lip. "Sam, I cain't read."

"I'll read it to you." The bartender took the letter out of the envelope and cleared his throat.

_**"**__**Dear Sam, I'm back home with Mother and Pa. I tried to tell her what you did for me but she wouldn't listen to a word. Pa is very grateful, though, to you and your friend Festus, and so am I. I don't know if Mother will ever come around, but I want you to know that as long as I am alive you will always have a home to come to. Love, Charlie"**_

Sam folded the letter and put it away and Festus smiled. "Sounds like he's goin' to be all right."

"Thanks to you."

The hillman looked down and said softly, "I sure am sorry 'bout yore sister."

Sam didn't say anything for a moment, then, "How was it when you went home?"

"They wuz glad t'see me but it warn't the same." Festus paused, then went on mournfully, "Don't s'pose it ever will be now Fergus is gone."

"I know what you mean." Sam's voice was low. "Even if Hannah wanted me to come back it would never be like it was." He smiled suddenly. "I'm a lucky man, though. I found a home here in Dodge, and a family."

Festus smiled a little. "S'pose that there family of yourn got room for one more?"

"It could be." Sam opened the door and blew out the lamp. "I'm going to work. Come on and I'll buy you a drink."


End file.
